Paradox
by Aeolus Harp
Summary: Sometimes affection seems so wrong that in actuality it is perfect. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood know the feeling. Femmeslash. HBP spoilers.
1. An Unexpected Gift

**Paradox**

**Author:** Aeolus Harp  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Genre:** Romance, General  
**Warnings:** Femmeslash - That means a relationship between two females. If you don't like it, then don't read it. Complaints will not be tolerated; In fact, I will probably laugh at them :)  
Tolerable amounts of fluff and dark themes in later chapters.  
**Companion piece to Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, so there will be spoilers.**  
**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling (unfortunately), so anything you recognize isn't mine.  
**Summary:** Sometimes affection seems so wrong that in actuality it is perfect. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood know the feeling. Femmeslash. HBP spoilers.

**A/N:** I reworked this chapter a bit to fit in with the 6th book I thought it would be more fun to make the story a companion to the book, which, in itself, will pose a challenge. Please read and review to tell me what you think of it.

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The course of true love never did run smooth.Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.  
- William Shakespeare

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**Chapter I : An Unexpected Gift**

Hermione Granger stalked down one of the deserted corridors, as she often did when she was rushing to her next class. Her mind was furiously running through the pages of notes she had memorized for Professor Vector, a feat she had accomplished at one in the morning with little more than her own minuscule cursive and a glass of lukewarm Earl Grey. She knew that in the long stretch of things she really did not _need_ to memorize them, but did so to satisfy her own thirst for knowledge, which was, in some ways, more ravenous than what her Professors expected of her. It was one of those nights that Harry and Ron disapproved of and chastised her at breakfast for, while she sat quietly reviewing and spreading jam on her toast.

Now she felt rushed and exhausted, but pressed on anyway, all the while marveling over how the sensible Hermione Granger could answer every question her Professors asked her but still couldn't figure out how to effectively add 'sleep' into her schedule. Hard to believe it had only been a week since the start of the term and she was already feeling sleep deprived.

She was nearly all of the way down the hallway when a straggly haired blonde came around the corner. She was a dotty looking girl, almost careless in appearance, as her robes seemed a bit ruffled and her blue striped stockings were handing loosely around her pale knees. What gave away her identity was the dreamy, almost sleepy expression and the butterbeer cap necklace tinkering noisily around her neck. Hermione immediately recognized her as Luna Lovegood.

_Oh Merlin,_ she thought morosely, her mind thinking of every possible option to escape. Talking to Loony Lovegood was not high on the list of her priorities.

She abruptly came to a stop and turned around, hoping the blonde hadn't noticed her. Apparently, however, it was too late, as she heard the rustle of a pair of feet rushing up quickly beside her.

"You are walking away from me." Luna said objectively, easily slipping into the same fast stride as Hermione.

Hermione stopped walking and glared icily at her. "Yes, well, I'm in a hurry," she said, a little more bitter than she meant to sound.

Luna didn't seem fazed by her less-than-friendly tone at all. "You always seem to be in a hurry. Don't you ever relax?"

Hermione stared at her incredulously. What a blatantly obvious question--_Of course_ she relaxed, though not in the usual way her peers did. She couldn't help it if she often compared relaxation to laziness, as most students seemed to confuse the two as they sprawled out on a sofa and fell asleep on their schoolbooks. She, on the other hand, believed relaxation included an afternoon with a large tome, open eyes, and an equally open mind, an situation most people would carelessly classify as 'work'. Of course, she doubted Luna (or anyone else for that matter) would understand what she meant, so she decided to avoid an explanation.

"Well," she began in her matter-of-fact voice, "I certainly do relax sometimes, but right now I have classes to go to. Plus I'm a Prefect, so I'm expected to be early." She paused a moment. "Shouldn't you be early as well? It sets a good example." Wonderful, here she was preaching to Luna about punctuality while another half a minute of precious time passed by.

To her surprise, Luna smiled dreamily. "I've never been late before. Besides, I like to look at the pictures in this hallway when I walk through it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Pictures? What pictures? She glanced at the stone walls, expecting them to be as bleak as she had always believed them to be. To her astonishment, she realized the walls were covered in them; pictures of knights on horseback, wooded temples, poets engrossed in piles of parchment, lovers sprawled in meadows, all kinds of scenes. In her haste, she had never even noticed them before.

"Oh, _those_ pictures," Hermione said flatly, trying to sound as if she had seen them a thousand times. She didn't like being caught off guard, after all. "Yes, I suppose they are quite lovely."

"You're not very good at lying, you know."

_What does it matter?_ Hermone thought angrily. Still determined to get to class on time, she began to walk again, this time even faster than before. She really didn't care what Luna thought of her for just leaving in the middle of their--er, could you call it a dialogue? Anyway, the girl was, generally, a complete airhead and a pointless conversationalist. Even when she wasn't racing to her next class, Hermione felt no drive whatsoever to talk to her.

After the sound of Luna's whistle-laden breathing began to subside, she began to review her notes again. _Celtic symbols... Which symbols were widely used by the Celts? ...Wait, did the Celts even have symbols?_ She desperately hoped that Professor Vector didn't decide to give pop quiz, as Luna's interruption seemed to have derailed her train of thought.

Suddenly she felt Luna's presence beside her again, this time close enough that she could feel the other girl's arm moving simultaneously with her own. She groaned inwardly and turned to face the fifth-year Ravenclaw, who was looking at her intently.

"What is it?"

"I know you were lying, because your left eye twitches whenever you lie." _For someone whose head in the clouds most of the time, she can be very observant sometimes,_ Hermione mused, nearly hitting herself for wondering why it mattered anyway. Why the hell did she care how observant Luna was? She had lost interest in any possible thing to do with Luna Lovegood, her personality, or her _irritating _persistence to talk to her at this point.

"Look Luna, I really need to get to class," she said, exasperated, "so could you please just let me go?" Taking the blank look on Luna's face as a sort of approval, Hermone began to walk again, this time expecting to be left alone (_finally!_).

"Wait!" Luna said breathlessly, rushing to catch up with Hermione's massive strides.

That was it--the dotty blonde had just destroyed Hermione's patience. She turned to give Luna the biggest tongue-lashing of her life, when Luna unexpectedly grabbed her wrist and looked her straight in the eye.

"You can't leave yet; I have something to give you," she said.

Hermione blinked. _Something to give... me? Why on earth would she want to give me something?_ The thought of all of Luna's strange passions went through her mind, and she almost laughed. _It's probably a copy of the Quibbler, or a doctored up photo of one of those ridiculous mythical beasts she believes in..._

To her astonishment, Luna gently pryed open her fingers and placed a small, oddly shaped silver pendant in her hand. In the center was a oval-shaped, milky white moonstone that had an ebony-colored symbol carved effortlessly into it. By the condition of the silver, it seemed to be very old, as several messily executed spells had been used to keep the metal somewhat shiny. The whole thing had to be worth well over five hundred galleons.

A wide eyed and, for once, speechless Hermione looked up. Luna had her head cocked slightly to the side and seemed to be considering the pendant. "I always liked the weird symbol on it."

Hermione waited, expecting some other reason for the priceless gift would arise and answer the question hanging on her lips. Luna, however, pursed her lips together and, seemingly satisfied with that explanation, she turned on her heel and skipped in the opposite direction, not stopping to say anything else to the rattled Hermione.

Unbelievable.

Did Luna just call something else _weird_? This coming from a girl who just gave her a priceless pendant and _offered no reason for it_? Hermione held the pendant in her other palm and ran a finger over the edge, her logical mind quickly becoming cloudy and baffled at the lack of coherent reasoning behind it. She wanted some explanation for the seemingly random present. Luna may be dotty, but she would not just give something so priceless away. _Oh please,_ Hermione, she thought to herself, _it's Luna we're talking about. Stop trying to analyze her behavior--you know it's a lost cause._

"Luna--I... I can't accept this," she finally stammered to the retreating figure of the blonde. For a moment it seemed as if Luna had ignored her, and she suddenly felt very foolish and exposed. She should never have taken it in the first place. Now she felt almost obligated to return the pendant to her, a situation she did not really want to be in. _Well, if she hadn't surprised me in that weird, nonchalant way of hers, I wouldn't have to,_ she thought, gritting her teeth slightly.

"Keep it," a sing-song voice replied suddenly, making Hermione jump out of her trance. "Daddy was using it as a Crumple-Horned Snorckack charm, so it would just melt eventually." The blonde then paused for a moment, then turned to face Hermione. "You should get some sleep. You seem a bit out of sorts."

Hermione watched Luna turn around the corner. Her first thought was that of the guilt that had begun to gnaw on her insides after Luna had handed her the pendant. She had been harsh with her earlier, far too harsh. It wasn't Luna's fault that she was exhausted and in a bad mood, and yet she brushed her off like the plague. _Out of sorts indeed,_ Hermione thought grimly, remembering Luna's words.

It would have been so easy for her to throw the gesture away as one of Luna's strange ideas of proper social behavior and to attach no importance to the gift or her response to it. It would have been uncomplicated for her last year after meeting Luna for the first time. But now... _Now I have to remember last year at the Department of Mysteries,_ Hermione thought. This wasn't just the girl who liked to read _The Quibbler_ upside-down and put her wand behind her ear anymore--This was the girl who had followed Harry, Hermione and the others to the Department of Mysteries of her own accord, disregarding the risks; who had fought her way through Death Eaters only to be flung across a table like a rag doll (or so she had heard, Hermione had been unconscious at the time); who had somehow lessened the weight of Sirius's death to Harry by saying something that had helped him cope. No, she could never be the same Luna Lovegood that Hermione had once scoffed at as a flake, yet she had just treated her that way.

She tightened her hold on the pendant and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories of last year flood her mind. The feeling of her hand on the cold metal seemed to signify something. She vaguely wondered if it was some sort of burgeoning respect for Luna that, though steadily growing, would take a while to fully develop.

Far off in one of the distant courtyards, a large clock let off a resounding chorus of bell chimes that signified the changing of the hour. Nearly shaking in surprise and even horror, Hermione's eyes widened and she nearly collided with the wall in her haste to turn and get to class. In a moment, all thoughts of Luna Lovegood were veiled by more pressing issues and Hermione was less than willing to accept any compromise between them.

It was only later that she realized she had given the pictures a short, but nonetheless appreciative glance as she had rushed by.


	2. Conversations Over Chamomile

**A/N:** I received over one hundred thirty hits on my first chapter alone. I want to thank everyone who read it and encourage you to tell me what you think. Suggestions are always welcome )  
I also had to fix a few things in the two chapters that I didn't like. Work with me here, it's difficult without a beta.

**Chapter II: Conversations Over Chamomile**

Luna lounged comfortably on the sapphire-colored bed in her dormitory, tangling herself within the sheets and staring intently at the ceiling. Her mind was still slightly groggy this early in the morning and it was making it difficult for her to concentrate on the shapes on the ceiling. She had always wanted to know what they were; some were very strangely shaped, with horns and what seemed to be tentacles sticking out of their pudgy bodies. She had been pondering for a while if they were supposed to be sea serpents or paint splotches.

"Luna...?" her roommate Anne said. She walked forward and looked down on Luna's upside-down face, eyeing her with some suspicion.

"You look different at this angle," Luna pointed out as she pushed a stray blonde lock off of her cheek.

Anne shifted uncomfortably. "Er--thanks. Luna, why are you on my bed?"

_It's rather obvious, I thought,_ Luna said to herself. "The House Elves are cleaning my sheets and I wanted somewhere to lie down."

"Oh, I see. Well, if it's not too much of a problem, I am really quite tired and would like to take a nap before breakfast."

"Why didn't you sleep last night?" Luna asked casually

Anne's eyes narrowed slightly. "I... couldn't fall asleep. In any case, I really would like to--" Her tone was not cross, but Luna knew better than to refuse one of Anne's demands.

"I'll move, just give me a second." Luna flipped over on her stomach and wriggled her way out of the sheets. As soon as her feet were free, she fell to the ground with a resounding crash that caused her remaining three roommates to nearly jump out of their beds.

Anne bit her lip to keep from shouting, deciding instead to simply walk over Luna and climb into bed. The other three girls gave annoyed groans and began to rise, one by one, to go to the sink to clean up. One, a particularly smug looking girl with frizzy chestnut hair, gave Luna a seething look as she passed by. The other two decided it would be best not to say or do anything.

Luna remained on the ground for a moment before pulling herself up and walking over to the wardrobe to pick out her clothes for the day. After pulling out her newly washed school skirt and tie, her eyes lifted to look at her face the massive oak mirror that rested on top of the wardrobe. She noticed, with some amusement, that the fall had caused her hair to develop a rather large, matted knot near her left ear. She set her clothes down and summoned her brush from the other end of the room, then proceeded to do battle. After a few minutes of rigorous brushing, she finally set down the brush, quite satisfied with the result.

_I wonder if Hermione has his problem every morning,_ Luna thought as she pictured Hermione's mass of bushy brunette locks. Ginny had told her that Hermione often complained about it, but Luna didn't understand why Hermione hated it so much. She had always rather liked the other girl's hair--it gave her a easily recognizable appearance.

Hermione. Her alone name gave Luna a twinge in her chest.

She really didn't know why she liked Hermione so much. She was never really well-disposed towards Luna and always seemed to put up a front when she was around. On top of that, Luna admitted that she didn't know much about the other girl. She knew Hermione was passionate about books and learning (of course, everyone in Hogwarts knew _that_) and was highly intelligent. Hidden behind her intellect, however, Luna knew that Hermione was also temperamental, somewhat close-minded, and often second-guessed herself; certainly not the kind of person to place on a pedestal to be admired for her perfection, but then Luna would not have been at all interested in her if she were.

She daydreamed back to yesterday when she had given Hermione the pendant. The Gryffindor seemed utterly baffled by the gift, a thought that still made Luna smile a bit. She had wanted it to be a token of friendship that would change Hermione's attitude towards her. She really couldn't explain why-- she normally didn't care what other people thought of her. For some reason that Merlin only knows, Luna had wanted Hermione to like her and, if she could be so lucky, become her friend. Luna had never had a really close friend before and desperately wanted one. Sure, she did have friends, Ginny for example, but none that were close to her in the way Luna wanted them to be. Most people at Hogwarts probably couldn't imagine "Loony" Lovegood would want anything normal like friendship, but she did. She wanted someone to talk about books over and take long walks outside with. Something simple and pure that she desperately hoped Hermione could fulfill.

Anne's shallow breathing began to grow louder as the other three girls left the room in a sullen-looking pack, leaving Luna alone in the corner. She quickly grabbed the rest of her clothes and changed quickly, not really caring if Anne saw her or not. After she finished buttoning her jumper, she put in a new pair of earrings her father had found in Sweden-- silvery colored crescent moons with a comet's tail made of stained-and-polished bark from Hoddmimir's Wood. Luna playfully shook her head to make the earrings sway before she stood up and headed off to breakfast.

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"Good morning, Luna," Ginny said cheerfully as Luna walked past the Gryffindor table. "I like your earrings; are they new?"

"Good morning, Ginevra," Luna replied lightly. "Yes, thank you. Daddy bought them at one of our detours in Sweden." She noticed a few of Ginny's Gryffindor friends snicker slightly and chose to ignore them.

"I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been doing?"

"Quite fine. I've noticed we've received a lot of homework already."

Ginny's smile faltered a bit. "Yes, I can agree to that. I just can't wait until later in the year before O.W.L.s start--we'll have a fabulous amount to do."

Luna nodded. A moment later she noticed Dean Thomas, Ginny's boyfriend, looking at her with raised eyebrows and a grimace. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked him. Ginny's head snapped around and she looked at Dean intently. He blinked and looked away. "I'm fine, just some indigestion."

"You should drink chamomile tea," Luna said dreamily, picturing in her mind the first time she ever drank it. It was in her front yard when she was younger, with her mother reading some Muggle book she had found in their neighbors library... "It works really well for stomach pain, you know. The ancient people of western Europe used to have elaborate ceremonies where they'd use it for health purposes and for love potions. Some people used it to summon Miniuenna to feast on their sacrifices to the gods." Dean looked slightly surprised, then nearly laughed.

"He'll do that, thanks," Ginny said half-heartedly as she held back the urge to hex Dean.

Luna blinked, nearly forgetting who she was talking to. The memory had been so vivid that she didn't want to leave it. Suddenly, she felt a tickle on her elbow. She abruptly turned to find Hermione standing next to her, looking slightly embarrassed. Her cheeks had a slight red tinge to them that Luna found to be intriguing.

"Luna?" she said, her voice hesitant. "I just--well, I just wanted to thank you for the gift again. It really was unnecessary, but I thank you all the same."

Luna felt her heart lurch a bit, a phenomena that gave her whole body a surprisingly warm feeling. "You're welcome. Are you feeling better today?"

Hermione's slightly red cheeks turned a deep scarlet. By now, most of the Gryffindor table were watching the pair with interest. "Oh, yes. I had some dinner and went to bed two hours earlier last night." She paused slightly, trying to read Luna's vague expression. "Look, about my mood yesterday... I really don't know what I was thinking. I was ornery from lack of sleep, but that was no reason to lash out at you, especially because you were so kind to me."

Luna knew that what was happening was a strange event. Hermione rarely apologized (_in part because she's rarely wrong, _Luna thought with a smile), and it showed in her house mates incredulous expressions. Ron Weasley had a large chunk of toast hanging out of his open mouth and Harry's eyebrows were buried in his hair.

"It's all right, Hermione." The look on Hermione's face proved that she didn't believe her. "I mean it, you know."

To Luna's surprise, she began to smile timidly. "I really did like the pictures. My favorite was the poet reading from his book."

Luna couldn't help but smile back. She felt a leap of happiness at Hermione's willingness to tell her something personal, even if it was a trivial opinion. "It suits you."

There was a pause that Hermione seemed to find very awkward--she kept looking at her feet and rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Hermione?' Luna asked, finally breaking the silence.

Hermione looked up. "Hmm?"

"I'm going to get a muffin."

"Oh," Hermione breathed. "Yes, well, I suppose I shouldn't keep you from your breakfast." She paused. "Have a good day, then."

Luna smiled dreamily as she watched Hermione sit down, a slightly disappointed look on her face. Had she wanted to say something else? Luna couldn't think of a time when someone other than her father had wanted to tell her something important.

She walked towards the Ravenclaw table feeling as if she had just drank a vial of pepper-up potion. A rather lonely seat at the end of the table caught her eye and she sat down, noticing she was near a group of third-years who went out of their way to ignore her presence. Despite their apparent rudeness, she was grateful all the same--it would give her time to think.

She had hoped the gift would make Hermione open her eyes a bit more and tolerate her as a possible friend, not just an eccentric (_or loony_, she thought, smiling a bit) girl a year behind her. Knowing that her wish had come true certainly lightened her mood and made her normally sleepy-looking eyes bright.

She vaguely noticed movement on her right and watched as her roommates, including an exhausted-looking Anne, stand up out of their seats and begin walking towards Defense Against the Dark Arts. Luna looked down at her muffin and was surprised that half of it was already gone. She quickly finished the other half and grabbed her book, ready to face her first defense class with Snape. Somehow she had a feeling that even his harsh words won't dent her good mood.

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Hoddmimir's Wood (From Encyclopedia Mythica)  
Norse mythology, Yggdrasil ("The Terrible One's Horse"), also called the World Tree, is the giant ash tree that links and shelters all the worlds. Beneath the three roots the realms of Asgard, Jotunheim, and Niflheim are located... On the day of Ragnarok, the fire giant Surt will set the tree on fire.Other names for the tree include: Ask Yggdrasil, Hoddmimir's Wood, Laerad and Odin's Horse.

Miniuenna - Mixture of the Latin _minium_ (vermilion) and _penna_ (winged). Could be anything red-colored with wings, though I thought of it as a big dragonfly-esque beast. It's one of Luna's strange creatures, by the way.


	3. The River of Dreams

**A/N:** Woohoo, reviews! Thank you so much for your kind words. I had no idea that this story would be liked so much! It's very encouraging.  
For one reason or another, this chapter took forever to write. I'm sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I really liked it before posting it. Place that on top of the creative writing class I sold my soul to for five months and you get a combination of delays and excuses. Hopefully my schedule will allow me to update more frequently.

Warning: This chapter contains some foul language (only two or three swear words.)

**Chapter III: The River of Dreams**

Hermione began to feel her eyes growing heavy. She had been trying to focus on the same paragraph in her charms notes for the past ten minutes, but the words were steadily becoming cloudier and more difficult to read as her mind slipped in and out of consciousness. It was far too late for her to be up, she knew that for sure, and her body seemed to take delight in reminding her of that fact. As she reached the last sentence in the paragraph, a dull throbbing in her head added to her long list of stresses.

The pounding in her head grew ten times worse when she noticed the time. "Three thirty!" she exhaled quietly, despite her shock. "Unbelievable!"

She put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. Harry and Ron would both have a fit in the morning when they found out about her latest late night affair; she couldn't afford another day on only a few hours of sleep.

_Not that it's any of their business anyway,_ she reminded herself. _They do worry about me though, and with good reason. Another night like this one and I'll be legally dead._

With a sigh, she stretched out her sore muscles and scanned her surroundings. The Gryffindor common room was silent as a stone this time of night, all save the sound of the flames licking at the wood in the fireplace. Hermione had chosen a particularly comfy armchair near the fire so she could enjoy the extra warmth. The lamp sitting next to her began to flicker with the fatigue of being left on for hours on end, and Hermione hastily pulled out her wand and turned it off. There was no denying it--she was exhausted and ready for bed.

She flung her notes and textbook under her arm and stood up, trying her best to resist the temptation to collapse and fall asleep on the floor. Her weary feet dragged up the staircase (which Hermione swore was steadily growing more steps as she neared the top) towards her dorm room near the end of the hallway, where Parvati, Lavender and the others were all fast asleep. With a heavy sigh, she set down her things on the night-stand and collapsed onto her bed, not caring in the slightest that she was still dressed in her school robes.

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"HELLO? EARTH TO HERMIONE!" Ron was shouting, flailing his arms around like he was trying to land an airplane. Apparently he thought that it would catch her attention; it did, and it made her want to hex him into oblivion. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm fine," she said forcibly. Her eyes were deliberately fixed on her glass of milk so that she wouldn't have to meet Ron and Harry's fixed stares. Through the corner of her eye, however, she could see their faces. They were both wearing the "you're-a-terrible-liar" look.

"Oh yes, I always stare into space when I'm feeling wonderful as well," Ron replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You stayed up late again, didn't you? Honestly Hermione, you're going to run yourself dry if you keep this up."

"What I do with my time is none of your concern, Ron."

"It is when we have to deal with you in the morning," Ron snapped back.

Hermione tried to say something, but Harry cut her off. "He's right, you always get hostile and detached when you skip sleep. Ron and I just get frustrated."

"Frustrated my arse," Ron added bluntly. "You are basically driving us bloody insane."

For once, she didn't feel have the energy to argue. "Language, Ron," she said automatically, turning her attention to her eggs. She picked at them with her fork, a habit she knew would horrify her later. An awkward moment passed as she began to eat and Ron and Harry passed annoyed glances at one another.

"Did you hear a word we just said?" Harry asked.

"Mmhmm."

"Why aren't you shouting at us yet?" The tone in Ron's voice was almost comical.

"Because you're right." Harry's eyes became as round as galleons, while Ron's mouth dropped open unattractively. "WHAT?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I said you're right; I really should be getting more sleep. End of discussion."

"But--" Ron began, but he quickly held his tongue after Hermione looked up and glared at him.

Another moment of awkward silence passed that Hermione was somewhat grateful for. She hated hearing them patronize her (no matter how much she deserved it--not that she'd let them know that) and silently wished that someone would change the subject.

"How's the Half Blood Prince?" Ron suddenly blurted out. Hermione stopped mid-chew and narrowed her eyes; maybe she should have been more specific on the subject change.

Harry grinned. "Excellent. He's helped on every potion we've done so far."

She allowed her eyes to trace the corners of Harry's grin. He was still _happy_ about that textbook of his? Did he have any idea that by milking this Prince for information that he was getting praise and accolades he didn't deserve? Then there was that obstinate, nagging feeling of her own that was clawing at her brain. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't like playing second best, especially to someone cheating with a unnaturally intelligent textbook. Her pride may be wounded, but she'd never let Harry and Ron notice.

"I still wish I would have gotten that book, mate," Ron said, shaking his head as he stirred his glass of milk. "It would have made life a whole lot easier."

"_Easier_ being the key word," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself. "Too easy, if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked you," Ron pointed out viciously. He then muttered, "I knew it wouldn't last," to Harry.

A thousand retorts came flooding into her mind. Her mouth, however, didn't seem to be working correctly. Frustrated by her inability to voice a properly intelligent reply, she simply placed her silverware on her plate and reached for her napkin. After lightly brushing her lips with it, she offered them her best glare and stood up.

"I'm going to start on tonight's homework."

Harry looked surprised. "Hermione, we haven't even gone to class yet. How could you possibly know what our assignments are?"

"That's none of your business," she replied. She knew it was a stupid, childish reply, but right now she didn't really care. All she wanted was out, away from the incessant bantering and questioning by Ron and Harry. Away to a place where she could just sit and think for a moment.

That was easier to hope for than accomplish.

"Hermione, sit down and eat, will you," Ron demanded. "Really, you're acting very strange. One second you're fine, the next you're lashing out. What's wrong with you?"

A wave of heat rushed to Hermione's face. How insolent Ron could be sometimes! "What's _wrong_ with me? Gee, Ron, that's a bit rude, don't you think?"

Ron looked up in surprise. "No, actually. I thought it was a good question."

"No, actually," Hermione replied bitterly. "Well you presumed wrong! You never once asked me if I was feeling all right or if I needed something; all you asked was about my sleeping habits, which, by the way, are my sleeping habits and therefore mine to control. What if I'm upset about something?"

"Well obviously you are, or you wouldn't be yelling at me!" Ron cheekily retorted. Harry sighed and let one hand run through his hair; he knew this was not going to end well.

"You are heartless, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said coldly, throwing her napkin down on the table as she spoke. With a quick turn on the heel, she stormed towards the doorway, ignoring the protests of Harry and Ron's, "Girls, honestly!" remark. She tried desperately to look as casual as possible so she wouldn't attract attention, but soon her sudden departure caused the great majority of the students in the room to feed her questioning looks. Hermione felt a slight blush rising in her cheeks. She never did like being stared at, especially in front of such a large crowd. And as silly as it seemed, she also felt slightly exposed- no one would know her reason for leaving, but it was obvious by her expression that she was troubled by something.

One of the people staring was Luna Lovegood, who was sitting at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. Her wide, silvery eyes fixed on Hermione, studying her carefully. Her expression did not hint at any emotion in particular, other than the shared curiosity that everyone else in the room wore. Unlike other people, however, Luna did not look away when Hermione met her eyes. Indeed, it seemed her curiosity was not short-lived,contrary to the other eyes in the room that returned to looking at plates or other faces.

For a moment, Hermione forgot herself as she looked back at Luna; unfortunately, that moment lasted a bit too long. A moment after she regained her composure, she collided with something large and solid.

"Looking for some fresh air, Granger," the cold voice of Draco Malfoy sneered, "or did you just forget how to see?" Hermione met his eyes with a disgusted look. He was gazing down at her (he was a few inches taller) and was wearing that cocky smile that made Hermione's insides reel.

"Neither," she replied simply, knowing Malfoy was probably the last person on earth she wanted to see at the moment (or ever, actually). When it came to exchanging quips and quiddities when she was already upset, he had the upper hand; the git was quite good at making her feel even worse about things.

Breaking away from his cold gaze, she shoved past the Slytherin and continued toward freedom just a few steps ahead. She felt his eyes fix on her back as she reached the doorway and turned quickly around the corner. Relief flooded into her system when she felt the gaze lift as she passed out of sight.

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Thirty minutes. That was all she needed.

Hermione set her alarm with a flick of her wand and rested her head on the pillow.  
Transfiguration started in thirty minutes, actually forty minus ten passing time, and she was determined to get some sleep before class started. She closed her eyes and let her body relax, but to her annoyance she didn't feel very tired at all now. Instead, she simply spent five minutes studying the inside of her eyelids.

"Shit," she murmured, turning over from her side onto her back. This was so typical- for once she actually needed to sleep and her body wouldn't let her. Why must she be plagued by this problem now?

Frustrated, she reached for her wand on the night-stand. Her eyes were still closed, so she felt around to see if she could find it. Besides the cool surface of the wooden night-stand, she felt nothing.

Her eyes snapped open. "Oh Merlin, don't tell me I dropped it!" The thought combined with her insomnia caused an unnecessary amount of anger.

She sat up with a start, ignoring the buzzing in her head that resulted from the sudden change. Mercilessly, she leaned over the side of the bed and began pawing around the floor. It was nowhere to be found. Somehow she had lost her wand on the expanse of the floor. Had she been in a better mood, it would have been almost comical.

Hermione leaned over even farther, hoping to find it had somehow rolled under her bed. Instead, her head hit the heavy wood of the night-stand with a loud thunk.

"Shit!" she said for the second time in the past ten minutes. Tears welled up in her eyes, not so much from the pain in her head as the situation she was in. How in the name of Merlin did she wind up like this? If only someone could see her now, getting upset over dropping a wand- how ridiculous! And why was she colliding with everything all of the sudden?

The sound of something falling shook her out of her pathetic state. Her wand had landed right next to her hand, along with the pendant Luna had given her. Somehow, both had been near the back of the night-stand and had fallen when she hit it. Determined to get herself back together and forget this had ever happened, she grabbed both and sat back up on her bed.

She stared at both objects for a moment before she stuffed her wand safely back in her pocket. The pendant remained in her hand so she could look over it. The curious thing was, she didn't remember putting in on her night-stand; in fact, she thought it had been in one of the drawers to keep it from being exposed to dust and excessive light. How on earth it had gotten on top of her night-stand was a mystery.

_ But that's not the only mystery, _she thought. What was really starting to graze at her was why she liked it so much in the first place. It was a trinket, a bauble if she dare use such a vulgar word, granted it was an expensive one. At that thought she smiled, for she was under the impression that things that are pretty but utterly useless generally are expensive. She was sure the Malfoy's mother had several decorative boxes full of frilly fanciness that probably cost more than Hermione's house. This fact alone caused her to wonder again what Luna was thinking by giving it to her. She was certain the girl wasn't dull, no matter how absurd she may seem sometimes, so why would she give Hermione a gift she knew she wouldn't appreciate?

_You may not appreciate it, but you like it. That's all. _Or, at least, that last part was what she'd been trying to convince herself of. She did rather enjoy the feeling of the cold metal that sent a near shiver through her when she touched it. And the moonstone was fabulous. But that was all out of it's beauty, which every person would acknowledge upon observing it. True appreciation would mean some sort of emotional attatchment that she was not willing to give.

Suddenly, she felt exhaustion hit her like an ocean wave, ruthless and all-consuming. Apparently her energy level had dropped significantly when her anger had subsided, and now she felt ready to take the nap she wanted. She checked the clock and noted that she had fifteen minutes. It was not nearly enough, but it would have to do. Yawning, she settled back into her pillow and immediately drifted off into sleep, the pendant still resting in her hand.

-----------

Someone was holding her, and her first reaction was to push away. This was dangerous- their face was hidden in the darkness, and she couldn't make out any distunguishable features. She grasped their shoulders and tried to move, but one hand strengthened its hold on her hip and the other cupped her cheek gently. Her body was still screaming for her to break away. What the hell was she thinking?

Her heart, however, was melting. Her cheek burned where the fingers rested, though not in an unpleasant way. This was not the touch of someone who wanted to hurt her. It couldn't be. No one in that mindset would be so gentle and so... loving.

Wait, loving?

She gasped as a pair of lips met hers unexpectadly. Instantly, panic flooded her veins. She wanted to protest, she _needed_ to protest, but something felt... No, no, no, that couldn't be. She couldn't feel anything anymore. Her head was spinning-- Oh Merlin, was it spinning! She should push away; hell, she should throw this person away!

Every thought became more like broken pieces of a mirror- if they were pieced together, maybe she could understand it. But she couldn't possibly think properly in this state. Someone's lips were on hers, and it felt good. So terribly wrong, sinful almost, but good. There was no logic, no rational explanation for this feeling, just the physical pleasure of being so close to someone and feeling their hot breath on her face. She had never experienced anything like this before, ever.

But the moment didn't last long. Soon, Hermione sprung awake at the sound of her alarm. Strands of her bushy brown hair were in her face and strewn about the pillow like a curtain. It covered her vision, like the face in her dream was covered by darkness. The memory frightered her, and with a jolt she sat up and frantically pushed it out of her face. Her hands then dropped to the side and she sat still for a moment to try and calm the heavy pounding in her chest. She was completely stunned at what had just taken place.She rarely dreamed of anything romantic, and that... well, that was something all right.

Her ears vaguely registered the sound of something ringing, and she noted that she had not yet shut off the alarm. She silenced it with her wand and then sat for another moment to try and calm herself. This was awful, and even worse, embarrasing. She hoped with all of her might that no one had walked in and seen her. Obviously they wouldn't know what exactly she was dreaming, but it bothered her all the same. Hermione Granger did not have sensual dreams. The fact that someone may have even gotten that hint that she did made her ill.

Once her heart rate had slowed gaain, she checked the clock- ten minutes to get ready. It was just enough time. She stood up and unknowingly let the forgotten pendant, which had been hiding in the folds of her skirt, fall to the floor. With a burst of speed, she smoothed out her jumper before grabbing a brush to tame her hair. She then put on her shoes and straightened out her comforter. With just over five minutes to go, she was ready. Just one quick run to the door and a two minute walk to go.

-----------

See what stress does to you, my friends? It's not pleasant.

Note: This title was stolen, err, _borrowed_ from Billy Joel.


	4. Waiting For You

**A/N:** This chapter turned out to be more philosophical than I expected. I never really planned it to happen that way, so it may seem a bit over the top.

I'm also concerned about Luna being a bit OOC. If you think she is, please leave some suggestions. I would like to keep both girls (especially Luna, which is very difficult) close to their original characters in the books. Keep in mind, however, that I do try to write Luna as someone whose deeper than her eccentricities. After all, she _is_ a Ravenclaw and must have some degree of intelligence. If it bothers you then you probably won't like this very much. I also tend to write Hermione as a fairly insecure person because, once again, that's my opinion of her. If you don't agree then don't flame me.

It's long though. So be happy about that :-)

Hmm... this chapter also contains a few quotes from famous works. If you cannot figure out who the author is by reading it, or where the quote originated from, see the section at the very bottom of the story. I encourage you to find out for yourself if you do not know it.

Thank you for your reviews! They are always good pick-me-ups.

Aeolus Harp

* * *

Chapter IV: Waiting For You

_You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,  
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,__  
And filter and fibre your blood._  
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,  
Missing me one place search another,  
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

Sometimes Luna just wanted to just reach up and grab a handful of stars. Not to steal them of course, but simply to borrow for a short while so she could see them closer. Perhaps it was the feeling that everyone experienced when on their back in the grass, face turned up toward to heavens- of that she wasn't sure. What she did know was that she loved the sight of the sky just after dusk, a canvas of deep blue that nature painted with drops of light as the sun faded. To her it was a masterpiece with no comparison.

Her head was resting on a smooth rock that jutted out of the grass and gradually flattened out. She found it in her second year, and ever since she fondly remembered it as her pillow. It was the best spot to view the night sky shortly before curfew. Hardly anyone came near it, since it sat close to the castle; those who went outside in the first place wished more often than not to get away from the building. The tranquility it allowed was a nice change from the bustling business inside.

With a small, content sigh, she turned her pale eyes to the moon. What she saw made her chest heavy with pity. It seemed tired tonight, with it's pallid white skin and hint of shadow around the right edge. There was no brilliant halo or silvery beams to fill her with a regal sense of pride at her namesake. It was just ashen, almost corpselike. An empty vessel of sorts. She wondered if it was growing old and weary of looking down upon the earth and seeing people suffer.

Or, at least, it was how she felt until her eyes grazed along the ribbon of stars starting across the sky. As the night grew darker, the stars grew brighter and more numerous until even the moon had it's own devotees to keep it company. The feeling of gloom she had just felt lifted as quickly as it had descended, and in it's wake was a vivid memory. She heard the voice of her father reading from an old muggle book he used to pull out on nights like this, when both of them were outside and Luna ripped her shoes off to feel the grass in between her toes. She could never remember the author--Joan Milkin? John Muffin?-- but knew the passage by heart. With a dreamy, almost whimsical voice, she recited it aloud.

A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold,  
And pavement stars,—as stars to thee appear  
Seen in the galaxy, that milky way  
Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest  
Powder'd with stars.

Satisfied with her recitation, Luna studied the Milky Way with her protuberant eyes. She always found it curious that the poet called it a "road." To her, it looked more like a delicate veil worn by Queen Cassiopeia or Andromeda. To call it a road meant that it had to be a path that led to a destination. But where could this one lead? To paradise or the next world? What if it led to nothing at all; after all, it could be just a path carved out of the sky for no real purpose other than to leave people like her wondering. Somehow she could see the gods of yore laughing at her expense as she sat here pondering. A slight tremor erupted in her chest at the thought.

"It's not funny to tease people like that," she said aloud. The stars gazed back and offered no reply.

She frowned. How she hated cold indifference- it seemed that this was the response she always received when she sought to answer something meaningful. People would either laugh or tell her to quit searching, for they saw it as fruitless. Even her father told her that she expected too much out of the world. It was beginning to make her wonder if she should even continue the search at all.

Suddenly, as if sensing her plight, a star winked at her. Her body tensed as she waited for it to do it again, but it continued to burn steadily as if nothing had happened. Luna was tempted to ask the star why it winked at her if it didn't care about her at all. After all, there had to be a reason for it. Stars don't just wink on a whim and then sink back into stillness.

It was in that moment that Luna got the joke. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. It was simple, really. The stars were really trying to help her understand- they wink to keep her intrigued, to keep questioning. Maybe there was no answer to where "the road" led, or it was different for other people. In any case, she didn't come out here to find the answer; she came out here to wonder. There was a distinct difference, like the feeling one gets putting the puzzle together and the other from completing it. Both were good feelings, but one needed to have a little of both to be happy in life. After all, only the first option would lead to frustration, as you would never be able to solve anything; the second would lead to indifference, for why would you want to try something you know that you'll just finish and throw away?

_Then what of Hermione Granger? Which is she?  
_

The thought came almost out of nowhere, and for a moment Luna wondered if something had whispered it to her. She swatted the air with her hand in case a foul creature had decided to confuse her, but felt nothing but the cool autumn air. The damage had already been done, however. She became flooded with the image of Hermione.

In the few weeks since she had given Hermione the pendant, she had barely seen the girl, and that counted the times she saw her bushy hair just above the pages of a book. The only time Hermione had even looked at her was at breakfast that day last week when she held her gaze for a moment's time before crashing into Draco Malfoy. Somehow that didn't matter, though. She thought of her all the time while she was studying or reading, and it was becoming very distracting. She was sure a few of her housemates noticed how she had been watching her during every meal since the beginning of the year, and rumors were bound to start up eventually. But she couldn't stop- meals were the best time to see what Hermione was really like, when she was surrounded by friends she felt comfortable with.

She had never really figured out why Hermione had suddenly invaded her thoughts. At the beginning of the year it was simply because she rather liked her and wanted to talk with her once in a while. Now Hermione was the puzzle she couldn't complete. She was like the night sky, something to ponder about and try to figure out. Only she actually _cared _what would happen when there were no secrets left. The mystery of her true self was what made Luna like her so much.

The ironic thing was, she was sure that the girl felt the same way about her. Hermione just viewed the situation differently, as she so often did. This left Luna wondering if Hermione felt her stomach flutter whenever she entered a room, or if she was left thinking about waves of blonde hair and butterbeer caps before she went to sleep. Was Hermione just as adamant to figure out Luna as she was to figure out Hermione?

The rumble of her stomach brought her thoughts to an end. She had missed dinner because of her stargazing, and surprisingly she didn't mind. Now, however, the absence of food was becoming all too apparent.

----------

Michael Corner made it his duty to inform his friends of anything and everything ridiculous. When he ran out of ripe gossip, he took to another form of nonsense entirely- confrontation for the sake of getting someone annoyed. For this he was well known, and though not exactly well liked by the general population, his skill of manipulation was respected for being almost Slytherin-like.

He stood in the corner of the Ravenclaw common room among two other boys, or his retinue as they were so fondly referred to by members of other houses. His dark eyes scanned the room for worthy prey, a task that didn't take long to complete. He spotted Luna seated at the edge of a long table near the blue tapestry; or, rather, a mess of blonde hair spreading itself over the book's pages. To him, the opportunity couldn't have been more perfect.

"Hey, Loony Lovegood," he shouted. A pair of protuberant eyes rose from the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Her demeanor showed no sign of recognizing the insulting epithet.

"Yes?"

He was wearing a particularly smug smile that made her wonder what was going on in his head. "Just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

She frowned. "All right, then."

Choosing to ignore the sniggering of Michael's two friends, she refocused her attention on the book, absentmindedly humming Weasley Is Our King on her breath. It was a trick she discovered a year ago to help keep her mind focused. Michael, however, didn't seem to be done with her yet. He motioned to his friends to stay put and then strode over to Luna, shoulders thrown back in an attempt to look imposing. "Lovegood," he said again as he slipped in a chair next to her.

She looked up again, still humming. "Yes?"

He smirked. "You sure like that song, Lovegood. I hear you sing it all the time."

"I do, yes," she replied simply. She wondered if maybe he wasn't feeling well. There was a strange glint in his eye, and he seemed to be taking far more interest in her than usual.

"You look very nice today, Luna." His two friends began to laugh again. Three third-year girls seated near the edge of the table hid smiles behind their hands as they eyed Luna's clock-faced earrings and infamous butterbeer cap necklace. To them, it was as if he just called a pauper a prince.

Luna, however, seemed outwardly unfazed. "I look the same as I did yesterday." She did, actually. This morning she had put on another one of her Ravenclaw jumpers and a newly pressed robe. Even her socks were the same style.

Michael shook his head and said (with a hint of sarcasm), "Nonsense! You look more radiant every day, like a seed steadily blossoming into a rose." This comment caused his friends to laugh harder, and the third-year girls to audibly chuckle.

"What kind of rose?"

"Err, sorry?" Michael asked, raising one eyebrow at Luna's question.

"What kind of rose?" she repeated. "I mean, there are so many. White roses. Red roses. Roses of Avalon. A rose from Midas' garden perhaps?" Michael smiled widely and proceeded to brush aside her question.

"It doesn't matter, Luna. The one that is most lovely."

"I think they're all lovely. I couldn't possibly choose."

"Then choose all of them."

"But you said "rose," which means one. How can one be many?"

With a slightly annoyed sigh, Michael reacher forward to grab Luna's left hand. "Just take my compliment, will you?" he purred, bringing her hand to his lips. A collective "oooh" echoed around the common room.

Luna's eyes grew slightly wider, if that was even possible. Michael took notice and dropped her hand, still smiling widely. "Is there something wrong?"

"So you are sick." She paused, observing Michael with a fixed stare. "I figured as much. It's been going around everywhere. Dreadful, really, that so many are afflicted by it."

The ridiculous smile playing about Michael's face vanished. "What?"

"You're sick, and I don't want to be. I'd be best if I leave so you can detoxify."

Michael stared at her in surprise for a moment before attempting to open his mouth. "Detoxify? I'm not sick; heck, I haven't been sick in years! Wait, what are you...?" Luna had stood up during his rambling and began gathering her things.

"It's just as I thought- you've got Tongue Dither. You know, the one that makes you say things you don't mean and damages your ability to form a coherent sentence."

"Lovegood, what...?"

She pulled her book and notes to her chest and fixed her eyes on him again. "Get some rest. The symptoms are rough, you know, with the sore throat and all, but you'll be normal soon. I'm afraid, however, that no one will like you much until then." Michael pursed his lips together and blushed deeply as the vast majority of the students in the common room began to laugh. Even his friends were in an uproar. One girl in particular (who dated Michael in the past) laughed harder than the rest, and shouted, "Nice one, Lovegood!" as Luna made her way up the stairs to her room.

----------

The morning sun gleamed through the stained glass windows of the common room, leaving shards of color scattered about the tables and walls. Luna absentmindedly traced a section of red with her finger, starting from the edge of the table and landing next to her plate. The other hand supported the underside of her jaw so her fingers could entangled themselves in her freshly washed hair. It had been difficult for her to get up this morning because she had not slept well the night before. She kept dreaming of Hermione wrapped up in a blanket and reading to her by the fireside, and almost as soon as the dream started she would wake up with her head spinning and her chest on fire. Needless to say, sleep was hard to come by.

Of course, the fact that Hermione was seated within sight didn't help much either. Luna had been watching her all morning as she chatter amiably with her friends. The Gryffindor seemed much more alert that she had been of late, and Luna wondered what exactly had compelled her to finally take her friend's advice and get some sleep. Whatever the reason, her normal self was at work again. That fact at least left Luna feeling warm inside, a sign that she hadn't been possessed by a _scopulus-anima _(although she had considered asking Madam Pomfrey about this morning to see if she had any antidote).

Unknown to the distant Luna was the constant retelling of her conversation with Michael Corner the day before. The entirety of the Ravenclaw table was occupied with news of the event, and it was told so often that people began to quote her word for word. Even the Slytherins had heard of it by now, and though the respect for Luna didn't rise at all, the appreciation of Luna as comic relief from everyday normalcy was definitely boosted. Michael himself sulked at the far end of the table, gripping his juice tightly and glaring at the amused glances people kept throwing him. Foremost among the recipients of his hard glares was Luna herself, though she obviously took no notice of the attention he was paying her. That left him in an even more foul mood, and he could only stand to sit for a few moments longer before exiting the Great Hall.

The sudden fluttering of Michael's robes caught Luna's eye, and she turned and watched him leave. She noted a particular stiffness in his step, the kind that usually attempts to cover up some type of emotional distress but usually just gives it away. The cause of it was obvious, though why he took what happened so badly was confusing. To be perfectly honest, she was still rather puzzled over yesterday's events. Obviously he was trying to toy with her; she knew that type of situation quite well. But why on earth everyone thought it was so funny was beyond her.

_Not that it matters anyway,_ she thought._ Let them think what they want, and laugh at what they want. They always do._

With a sigh, she returned to tracing the light with her finger.

------------

It was during Potions that Luna thought of it. It was certainly a revelation, though there were no burning bushes or anything fantastic about it. In fact, it slipped into her mind during one of Slughorn's pompous speeches about a poison he managed to find the antidote for. Hardly the time for what could be a life changing thought.

But then again, Luna was no stranger to peculiar events.

It happened as she was writing notes. To keep herself from growing bored, she often drew pictures in the margins of her parchment when she had the chance. They were always relevant, so she didn't feel any remorse for drawing them; as for what Slughorn would think if he saw them, well, that she wasn't too sure of. So she kept them hidden by one arm while she busily scribbled with the other.

As he described the creature that could produce the poison, she formed a picture of it on paper. Tall, with broad shoulders and a furry mane. Eyes like dying embers. Claws that could rip a man to pieces (though she wondered for a moment if he was exaggerating). What struck her was the mention of flaming red hair.

Red hair. _Flaming_ red hair. Ginny Weasley. Why hadn't she thought of it before?

Luckily for her, there were only a few minutes left of class. As soon as the clock reached ten, she knew she was free. Keeping her excitement inward, she gathered her things and calmly walked out of the door. She even gave Slughorn one last look as she left, knowing he would take that as a signal that she was at least somewhat interested in what he was saying a moment before.

With a brisk but smooth motion, she began to walk down the dungeon hallway up to where she knew Ginny would be. Sure enough, within only a few moment's time she was able to spot the girl among the throng of students leaving their last class.

"Ginny," she called out. The redhead stopped in her tracks and turned around. 

"Luna!" she replied cheerfully, noting Luna's bright expression. "You look happy."

Luna gave her a small smile in acknowledgement as she slipped past another girl and began to walk next to her. "Slughorn mentioned a beast he found some antidote for. I knew, after that, that I had to talk to you."

Had she been ignorant of Luna's bizarre sense of social behavior she would have been offended. Ginny, however, knew better. "And why is that?"

"He said it had red hair."

"Oh."

"So I thought of you."

"Of course." Ginny waited for Luna to speak again, but the other girl made it clear that she wasn't going to do so any time soon. Ginny shifted uncomfortably, vaguely wondering if Luna really wanted to talk at all or if she just wanted to have someone's company for a moment.

"Do you need to talk or something?" she finally asked.

Luna nodded. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure. About what?"

"About Hermione Granger."

Ginny nearly stopped walking at the mention of her friend's name. One thousand questions had just flooded into her brain, chief among them being the simple and overused "why". She was just about to voice her queries when she noticed the strange look in Luna's eyes, and all questions quickly vanished. Somehow she knew that things were about to become more complicated.

----------

**A/N Part 2:**  
Hey literature buffs! Name the book where the "broad and ample road" passage was taken. I gave you a hint for the author. (Don't scroll down, you cheater!)

Guess it, yet? Yep, it's Paradise Lost by John Milton. Congrats if you got it.

**Other notes:**  
The quote at the very beginning is from Walt Whitman's poem _Song of Myself_.  
_scopulus-anima _ rock spirit. Something that leaves you indifferent and unfeeling.  
As for the Michael Corner situation, it will play a larger role in later chapters. I had to include it her so it could... err... fester into something more important.


End file.
